Prince Nadir's Secret Heir

by Michelle Conder

  He shouldn’t be able to. That was the logical answer. Back in Paris, yes. Back then her mother had just died and her absent father had remarried a month later and Imogen had been looking for a change. She’d been looking for excitement and adventure. She’d been looking for passion.

  She pulled a rueful face.

  Maybe this was just a case of being careful what you wished for.

  Because she’d got it, hadn’t she. The excitement. The adventure. The passion. She’d got it in the form of a man who had awakened a hunger in her she hadn’t even realised she’d possessed and who had given her a child. The child she loved. The child she could deal with. The man not so much. Especially not when he kissed her. When he touched her.

  So she’d just have to be ready the next time and make sure he didn’t get that close. And maybe he wouldn’t try and touch her again because, although he had been as aroused as she had been, he hadn’t wanted to desire her any more than she did him.

  She watched her daughter stacking wooden blocks together on the floor in front of her and tried not to feel so anxious. She had to trust that even now Nadir was reconsidering his outrageous proposition—because surely no one would call ‘You will marry me’ a proposal. That even now he was trying to come up with a way to bow out of it gracefully.

  And if he wasn’t, well, Imogen had a plan. She would sit down with him over a cup of tea and she would go over all the information she had downloaded in a calm and rational manner. She’d point out, in the nicest possible way, that if his actions were motivated by some sort of guilt—or attack of conscience—then he could rest easy because she didn’t need him in her life and she certainly didn’t want to trap him.

  She smiled. That word ought to put the fear of God into him. No man wanted to feel trapped, did they?

  ‘Ma’am? Did you want the omelette?’

  Yes, yes, she did. She just didn’t want to have anything to do with the man who had ordered it for her. But that wasn’t the hostess’s fault and Imogen smiled up at her. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

  Her upbeat thoughts lasted right up until they landed and Imogen found herself in a small airport that made Tullamarine look like LAX. For some reason she’d thought Bakaan would be like Dubai—or the pictures she’d seen of Dubai. It wasn’t. But, even so, it was immediately apparent from the few people milling around in traditional garments and the warm dry air that smelled faintly of vanilla and spice that she had entered an ancient realm full of mystique and promise. Much like her impression of Nadir had been that first night.

  A shudder ran through her as the car raced through the night dark city and headed up an incline that led to an impressive well-lit palace that sat just above the ancient city like a golden mirage. As much as she hated to admit it, she was a little unsettled and a lot intimidated by the formality of the palace and the very real sense that she was the one who was trapped instead of Nadir.

  ‘My Lord, it is so good to see you again.’

  Imogen looked past Nadir to where a small white-haired servant in white robes knelt on the polished stone steps of the palace, his sombre tone increasing Imogen’s sense of unease.

  ‘Staph—’ Nadir pulled the old servant to his feet ‘—I told you not to do that the other day.’

  He’d been here recently?

  The servant’s mouth quirked but the solemn note didn’t leave his voice. ‘We are glad of your return, My Lord.’

  ‘I wish I was.’ He switched to Arabic then and the old man bowed at her feet and beamed at her, speaking in rapid-fire Bakaani. She smiled hesitantly, wondering what it was that Nadir had just told him.

  ‘My Lord, Mistress Imogen, Princess Nadeena.’

  Shocked at the label he had given her, Imogen shook her head. ‘I am not his mistress,’ she corrected a little more sharply than she’d intended. Had Nadir told him she was?

  The little man dropped to his knees again and started spouting effusively in Bakaani but there was no smile this time.

  Confused, Imogen shot Nadir a helpless glance and he sighed. ‘Staph meant you no discourtesy, Imogen. The word does not mean the same in our country as it does in the West.’

  ‘Oh, well...please tell him to get up. The ground must be really hard on his knees.’

  She felt awful and smiled warmly at the man to show him she hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings. ‘I’m sorry, I—’

  ‘Leave it, Imogen.’

  Nadir’s face softened as his eyes fell on his daughter, half asleep in her arms. ‘Do you want me to take her?’

  ‘No!’ Nadir had offered to take her as they had boarded his plane earlier but she hadn’t been ready for that. She still wasn’t, even though her reluctance made her feel totally selfish. There was just too much unfinished business between them. ‘No. I’ve got her.’

  His eyes narrowed but he didn’t push and she was grateful. ‘Come then. I will show you to our suite.’

  Their suite?

  She hurried after him.

  ‘I hope you know I’m not sleeping with you!’

  Nadir turned halfway up the steps and the servant cast her a worried look.

  Shaking his head, Nadir lowered his voice so he wouldn’t be overheard. ‘Bakaan is a conservative country, Imogen, and Staph does understand some English. Please keep your discussions about our situation private.’

  ‘I just want you to know that I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you in case you need to organise another room for us,’ she half whispered.

  ‘There are many bedrooms in the suite we will be using.’

  ‘Well, good.’ She felt her cheeks redden when she realised that he’d just confirmed her earlier suspicion that he didn’t want to sleep with her any more than she wanted to sleep with him.

  Or any more than she wanted to want to sleep with him, she amended to herself. ‘At least we’re on the same page about that.’

  The look he gave her was a mixture of exasperation and something darker that she couldn’t define. ‘Imogen, I doubt at this point that we’re even in the same book, let alone on the same page. But the steps of the Shomar Palace are not the place to discuss it.’

  Silently agreeing, Imogen followed him through a wide doorway into an atrium with high coved ceilings and delicate mosaic-covered walls. The champagne marble tiles that lined the floors and the ornate brickwork dated back to what she thought might be the Moorish period, the surrounding artwork and centuries-old statues recording a history that was both dark and wondrous.

  ‘Has Prince Zachim been notified of our arrival?’

  ‘Yes, My Lord. Will you be needing anything else?’

  ‘Not tonight. Thank you, Staph.’

  The man nodded. ‘I will bid you goodnight then.’ His English was stilted but Imogen appreciated the effort. ‘And may I say congratulations, My Lady.’

  This time Imogen waited for the servant to retreat before questioning Nadir. ‘What is he congratulating me for, exactly?’

  ‘Our marriage. This is your room.’ He opened one of the doors inside and waited for her to precede him.

  Imogen didn’t move, incredulous that Nadir would say such a thing when she had not agreed. ‘You told him we were getting married after I distinctly told you we wouldn’t be?’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  ‘What does “not exactly” mean?’

  ‘It means he believes we are already married.’

  Imogen’s brows rose to her hairline. ‘I hope you relieved him of that erroneous view,’ she said primly.

  When he sighed she knew that he hadn’t. ‘As I said, Bakaan is a conservative nation.’

  ‘You lied to him. That’s why he bowed at my feet.’

  ‘I didn’t lie. He assumed we were married.’

  ‘And you let him believe it.’

  Nadir’s eye
s flashed his frustration. ‘It was better than the alternative.’

  ‘What? That I was your mistress and had your baby out of wedlock?’

  A muscle ticked in his jaw. ‘You might not care how Nadeena is perceived in the future, but I do.’

  ‘Of course I care. You’re just twisting my words to suit yourself but as soon as I see that man again I’m going to correct him.’

  ‘No, you won’t. I won’t have Nadeena’s name smeared because you can’t see reason.’

  ‘I can’t see reason?’ So much for her hope that he would use the time on the plane to reconsider his proposition.

  He stopped directly in front of her. ‘And, to all intents and purposes, we are married.’

  Imogen coughed out a protest. ‘We most certainly are not.’

  ‘Signing a piece of paper isn’t going to make it any more real, Imogen. You’re going to have to get over whatever reservations you have and get used to it. But we can talk about this later, hmm? It is not a conversation we should be having in front of our daughter.’

  ‘She doesn’t understand,’ Imogen snapped, fuming because she knew he was right and she should have thought of the same thing herself. Because, although Nadeena couldn’t understand their words, she was soaking up the heightened emotions in the room and that wasn’t good.

  Sweeping past Nadir, she gasped as she entered a beautifully appointed bedroom with vast ceilings and long ornate keyhole-shaped windows lined with pale floaty curtains. Deep pink fabric was draped over the elaborate king-sized bed but, other than that, the furnishings wouldn’t have been out of place in any five-star hotel. A freshly made up cot stood beside the bed.

  ‘I thought you might like to keep Nadeena close.’

  She hadn’t expected him to show her that level of thoughtfulness.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said stiltedly, rubbing her arms against the chill in the air. ‘Is it usually so cold?’

  ‘Always.’

  Startled by the gravity of his tone, Imogen stared across at him. His hands were shoved into his pockets and the hard planes of his face seemed even more austere, the grimness of his expression making her think he was talking about more than just the air temperature.

  ‘I’ll have the thermostat adjusted. Get some sleep. You look tired.’

  Excellent. She looked exactly how she felt.

  ‘I have organised clothing and baby-related items for you which should be through the dressing room. If there’s anything the staff has missed just let me know.’

  ‘How could you arrange this so quickly?’

  ‘Bakaan might be somewhat of a backwater compared to the Western world, but it does have retail outlets. And Dubai is an hour away by plane. Anything we didn’t have they would have.’

  ‘It seems you’ve thought of everything.’

  His eyes were shuttered as he looked at her. ‘Let’s hope so.’

  * * *

  With a brief glance at Nadeena, who was wide awake and taking in her new surroundings with open curiosity, Nadir left and closed the door softly behind him.

  So civilised, she thought, feeling anything but civilised herself.

  ‘Okay, baby girl. What now?’

  Deciding to check out the items Nadir had supplied in the dressing room, she was shocked when she saw just how much he had bought.

  She lay Nadeena on her tummy on the floor, watching as she slowly pulled herself towards a row of shoe boxes. Curious herself, Imogen lifted the lid on the first box and gasped at the sight of an exquisite pair of designer shoes nestled amongst the tissue paper. They were her size and she wondered how he had known and then she remembered the day he had taken her shopping in Paris. Did he still remember? Probably not. Probably, it had just been a good guess. He did know women, after all.

  Not wanting to dwell on that disagreeable topic, she next checked the clothing hanging on the rack. Most of them were Western, with a few traditional-looking dresses amongst them.

  There were more clothes on the hangers than in her own wardrobe and she felt uneasy at why he would have supplied so many. Not that she’d wear them. But she would need to change Nadeena and she couldn’t suppress her delight at each of the baby outfits his staff had provided. Gorgeous soft cottons and silks, the like of which she hadn’t been able to afford herself.

  ‘All this for one day,’ she said to Nadeena. ‘The man has clearly never had to work to a realistic budget in his life.’

  Nadeena answered with a litany of ga-ga noises and upended a box of shoes. Saving the shoes and confiscating the tissue paper, Imogen let her have the empty box, which she immediately started banging on the floor.

  Feeling suddenly weary and lost, she changed Nadeena into a soft cotton sleeping suit and fed her. Then she laid her in the cot and grimaced when she saw how wired she was. Sleep looked like a long time coming. Deciding it would be a waste of energy to try to sing her to sleep, she rang Minh instead.

  ‘I was beginning to get worried when I didn’t hear from you after your brief text. How are you? How’s our darling girl?’ he asked.

  ‘Nadeena is fine.’ She’d particularly enjoyed Nadir’s private jet. ‘And I feel like I’ve been put through a spin dryer ten times. He wants to see her,’ she added softly.

  She heard Minh settle into his leather sofa and wished she was there with him with a nice bottle of red between them and a rom com on the TV.

  ‘I’ve already guessed he’s the father or you wouldn’t be in Bakaan so you know, he does have a right to see her,’ he said.

  ‘I know that.’ Imogen watched Nadeena stuff the ear of a soft teddy bear into her mouth and chew. ‘At least logically I know that.’ Emotionally, she wasn’t ready to concede the parenting of Nadeena to anyone else but herself and a couple of trusted friends. ‘I just never thought he’d be interested in her.’

  ‘Well, he clearly is. And maybe that’s a good thing.’

  Imogen pulled a face. ‘I don’t see how.’

  ‘He’s a very powerful man. He can provide for her, you know.’ Minh’s voice grew soft down the end of the phone. ‘And no doubt for you as well.’

  ‘I don’t want his money.’

  ‘I know that. But you could use someone to take care of you.’

  That had been her mother’s mistake. It wouldn’t be hers. ‘And what about love?’ She picked Nadeena up when she saw her yawn and laid her head on her shoulder.

  ‘Are we talking about for Nadeena or for you?’

  ‘Nadeena. The way he looked at me today...’ She felt heaviness inside her chest and it was hard to get the words out. ‘Believe me, there’s no love lost between us.’ And she would never want Nadir’s love for herself again. She’d got over that unrealistic desire a long time ago.

  ‘Try to look on the bright side,’ he said. ‘It might not be so bad.’

  Imogen released a pent-up breath. Looking on the bright side wasn’t exactly her forte. She was more a planning for the worst case scenario kind of girl. It was her safety blanket. It kept her from making mistakes—or being surprised by things. If her own mother had crossed every t and dotted every i maybe she wouldn’t have been so shocked when her father had left them and never came back. Maybe she would have been more prepared.

  ‘He left me when I needed him the most,’ she said, wondering why that still had the capacity to hurt. She’d got over that as well, hadn’t she? ‘How could I ever trust him with Nadeena? With me?’

  ‘That’s definitely a black mark against him. But you have to think of what’s best for Nadeena now.’

  Imogen chewed on her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. ‘I’m what is best for Nadeena. He’s nothing more than a playboy prince who comes and goes as he pleases and gets whatever he wants.’ Imogen steeled her heart, more resolved than ever to resist him. ‘I won’t let Nadeena hav
e my childhood and that’s all Nadir can offer.’

  They talked for a few minutes more, with Minh promising to call her boss and tell him that she wouldn’t be in over the next couple of days, and then Imogen focused on getting Nadeena to sleep.

  Her conversation with Minh had unsettled her. She’d wanted him to tell her that Nadir was a rat bastard but all he’d done was say things that had flashed across her own mind, which left her more conflicted than ever.

  She knew giving in to his demand that she marry him would ultimately end in tears. Most likely Nadeena’s. And quite possibly her own. In frustration, if nothing else!

  CHAPTER SIX

  IN THE END it took her an hour to put Nadeena to sleep and when she went looking for Nadir she wasn’t expecting to find him barefoot and shirtless with a dark-haired woman bending over his lap.

  The sight shocked her and suddenly a long-lost memory of her fifteen-year-old self flew into her mind. She’d been with a bunch of friends on a school excursion when they had come across her father in a passionate embrace with a woman who wasn’t her mother. The woman’s hands had been in her father’s hair, his hand close to her breast, his mouth devouring hers. Imogen had been stunned. Sickened. The girls with her had giggled nervously and her father hadn’t even looked contrite. He’d scowled at her and asked her why she wasn’t in school. God, she hadn’t remembered that in years.

  The woman in the white abaya straightened and Imogen saw she was holding an empty silver tray and a tumbler of Scotch sat on the low table beside the sofa.

  Imogen did a double-take when she realised that the woman was a servant who was now retreating from the room. Her mind had put two and two together and come up with ten. Maybe she was more tired than she’d realised...

  ‘You must be Imogen?’

  Whirling around at the sound of a deep male voice, Imogen saw a man bearing a striking resemblance to Nadir standing over by the keyhole windows. He looked tall and imposing in his traditional white robes and matching headdress and Imogen knew that there was no way she would have missed him if she hadn’t been so riveted by the sight of Nadir’s impressive chest.